


Pour Some Sugar on Me

by iammisscullen



Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon - Futuristic, M/M, girl!Zayn, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammisscullen/pseuds/iammisscullen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn wakes up and he has boobs and a missing dick. And this is how Harry finds him and decided to help him. But what's even shocking for Zayn isn't waking up a girl but learning that Harry's a wizard. It'll be easier if it wasn't for a deadline to turn Zayn back into a boy or he'll stay as a girl forever. And although most of the ingredients are all in for the potion to help Zayn, there's another ingredient that is missing and Harry's not sharing it for reasons Zayn doesn't know as well.</p>
<p>Zayn's buried deep in doubts that they'll succeed, but Harry's an optimist. It's going to be one hell of a rollercoaster ride, Zayn's only sure of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour Some Sugar on Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arhythmetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arhythmetic/gifts).



> So, as much as I loved Howl's Moving Castle (my favourite will always be Spirited Away, just so you know), I will never be able to give justice to Miyazaki's work so I chose this one instead. And trust me, I don't know anything about AI either or The Legend of Korra because I've only seen The Legend of Aang -- I'm pretty much useless on Fantasies. But I really hope you like this one. My fingers and toes are crossed.
> 
> Writing this has been a struggle -- I love challenges cos Barney Stinson raised me well. And 3 days before the deadline my annoying brain decided to change the plot because it's depressing and I feel like TOKYOLIGHTS doesn't deserve a depressing fic. So, I trashed what I was writing and went with this one.
> 
> Take note that I may have coined in a bit of Harry Potter and The Mortal Instruments in this story. So yeah.
> 
> Title comes from Def Leppard with the same title. :)

_You want to know what it was? The moment I knew you_

_were it? It was when I showed you the darkest parts of me,_

_and instead of running away, you rolled out a blanket,  
_

_laid on your back, and pointed out the stars._

**-Beau Taplin** // Astronome

 

 **

Zayn has a house full of _What the Fuck_ moments; but this one, right now, takes home the trophy. But he’ll tell you that the lace of his bra getting itchy only bags second prize. He fucking can’t believe that boobs itch too. He got no time for this shit.

‘Uhm… You’re not Carmela?’ says the slow drawl from behind him

It startles him so much that he almost lost a finger in the process because he was cutting white onions.

‘I think, you’re in the wrong house,’ the person adds, with the same voice that sends chills down Zayn’s back, cups his heart with warm hands. It feels like home.

This is the moment of truth. Zayn puts down his knife and takes a deep breath. He takes another breath just for good measure, then another, then another. And another.

What if things won’t get fix? What if it gets worse? What if Zayn’s going to end up all alone to help himself? He can’t do this on his own, that he’s sure of. Just thinking about the shit that happened to him makes him want to faint and puke at the same time.

‘Did you hear me?’ the person asks patiently and politely. Of course, the kind of courtesy only Harry Styles can master.

_Inhale. Exhale._ Zayn coaches himself. He can do this.

But he’s so scared, the _What If_ s drilling inside his head – strangles his heart – and the worst part is the _What if Harry rejects him_ because of his situation.

He turns – slowly like if only he can stop time and not face the music, he will. But how will he runaway from the same gangly legs and arms, same jade eyes, same mop of curls (only longer now), same patch of pale skin, same open-up-to-the-navel shirts with ridiculous prints, same skinny jeans; a familiar face and presence that sets his heart in a calm rhythm.

Something clinks in Zayn, like a piece of him has been fixed. The weight of this crazy experience has suddenly been lifted off his shoulders – like he’s 17 again and he’s calling his Mum just to assure himself that he deserves to be at the X-Factor; that he’s got someone who believes that he can do it; that even if he can’t, or doesn’t feel like he can – he will still be loved.

Harry blinks once. Twice. ‘Have we met before?’

For a moment, Zayn wants to tell Harry that when you see a stranger standing in your kitchen you tell them to get the fuck out of your house or you run for the nearest exit because they could be a serial killer.

‘Can I just say how beautiful you are,’ Harry states, checking Zayn out from head to toe. And it’s not the sort of glance you give someone you want to jump on, it’s a concentration that you allot to a masterpiece.

Zayn shakes his head amusedly, having a second-hand embarrassment for Harry because it’s never polite to stare that much on people. Harry’s such an idiot sometimes, Zayn’s bursting with fondness for him.

‘I have something to tell you,’ Zayn says, stuttering and looking at everywhere but Harry. This is not how he planned on doing this because Zayn usually don’t like dealing with problems at 9am, those things are handled at 3 in the afternoon or maybe in the next lifetime if he can help it. But he promised Harry he’d be honest with him – for better or for worst – they’d be true to each other.

Harry’s staring at him, waiting for him with those same kind eyes that see the world as half full than half empty – those same eyes that have marvelled at Zayn’s flaw and believed that Zayn can be better.

**

Zayn doesn’t judge Harry for the incredulity that’s written all over his face, because as much as the existence of transgenders, Zayn Malik can’t just turn into a girl overnight after drinking a glass of mojito that he’s guessing wasn’t alcohol at all.

He would have rubbed over his stubble in this sort of time but then he remembers that he’s got nothing on his face and all his soft – callous-free – hands can feel under his fingertips is smooth skin that seems like they’ve been marinated in milk. He starts playing with the hem of his apron, just to have something to do with his hands because he knows they’ll be shaking. And he’s not brave enough to accept how scared he is – he fears he’ll faint when the problem finally settles in.

‘But I have to tell you,’ Harry begins. ‘That’s the best story I’ve heard so far. I’ll give you that.’ He smiles, unbelieving.

‘Haz.’ He knows this will be hard to swallow, probably harder than accepting David Cameron’s win, yet again, as PM. ‘I need you to believe me.’

Harry chuckles, incredulous. He runs a hand over his face and massages his lips slowly as if he’s trying to decide something. ‘Tell me something only Zayn know.’

A box of memories open inside Zayn’s head, a hammer breaks the chains that wraps around his heart. There’s so many things to remember.

He doesn’t know which piece of memory he should pick because there’s so much, so many that he’s overwhelmed by the mere existence of them. He didn’t know there’d be this much, to be honest. How can one have myriad of bookmarks about someone? It’s like he’s doing a dissertation study about ‘Harry Styles the Novel.’

‘Well?’ Harry’s staring at him, waiting for his answer with hair tousled than before.

‘Uhm…’ He looks inside the Harry box again. There’s a bunch of shirts, a lot of late night talks, some books, matching tattoos, mix playlists, some vinyl CDs, rings, a pack of gum, and a lot more. Where does he start?

‘I think it’s better if you go,’ Harry says.

‘Wait,’ he pleads. Now is not the time to be overwhelmed by the things he’d stored about Harry Styles alone. ‘Last night, you made me wear that black lacy bra from VS and some knickers too. It was itchy as fuck but I wore them because you liked them.’ He smiles vaguely at the memory of last night. ‘You kinky bastard.’

Harry’s eyes are wide as saucers, it’s like watching a comical cartoon show.

‘And I’m wearing them now.’ He takes off his apron and his rolls his tank top up so Harry can see the lingerie.

His hand immediately goes to cup Zayn’s breast and squeezes them gently. Sensually really, on Zayn’s case as he tries to hold off a moan because it feels so fucking good.

‘They’re real,’ Harry mutters and Zayn gives him the _Duh! Isn’t it obvious?_ look because Zayn’s a closet sass. ‘How did this happen?’

Harry went out this morning to buy some produce at the 5am Farmer’s Market and Zayn wasn’t a girl before he left. Or he hadn’t notice because he was in a hurry – too excited to buy some fresh mangoes and kiwi and organic eggs for Zayn.

He swats Harry’s hand away because there’s some weird activity down south that he doesn’t want to awaken because now’s not the time to be horny, they have to fix this.

‘Should I take that this,’ Zayn gestures to himself, ‘doesn’t bother you?’

Harry smiles, slowly and then it goes so huge that Zayn’s afraid that it’ll break his face. ‘Not a bit,’ he says, pulling Zayn close by the waist because he can. ‘You’re still my Zayn.’ He kisses the top of Zayn’s nose, and it’s a bit easier before when Zayn’s almost the same height as he is, not this five-six tall girl.

Zayn rolls his eyes, exactly the same way he does when Harry’s being an idiotic sap. He’s not going to complain; but he doesn’t want to assure Harry that he tolerates him because that’s like signing up for public kisses anywhere they want, handsy touches that are far from being appropriate for the world to see, and other shit Harry tends to pull because he’s a horny fuck, as always – a freedom both of them can’t afford when there’s so many eyes on them.

‘You were checking out a stranger girl a while ago,’ Zayn accuses.

‘I am a man with eyes, and I tend to admire what I see,’ Harry defends.

‘Tell that to the feminists.’

‘I am a feminist.’

Zayn nods, sarcasm in his face. ‘Not when you were checking me out,’ he says. ‘Which was both rude and inappropriate. Your voyeurism will be the death of you.’

‘It wasn’t inappropriate.’ He pulls Zayn closer. ‘I’m just flabbergasted that someone so lovely could be standing in my dingy kitchen.’

It’s true though – not the grimy kitchen, because Harry’s kitchen could be on _Masterchef_ – that Harry never looked at anyone sexually, no promises on him being a sexual image because Harry’s too NC-17 for his own good.

‘Then why are you looking at me like you’re going to eat me?’ Zayn asks knowingly. Harry’s smiling at him wickedly, his bottom lip between his teeth.

Harry laughs – loud and bright that it vibrates through his entire body – shaking Zayn with him. ‘This is different now,’ he announces. ‘Cos it’s you.’ He’s smiling like he’s won the lottery as he tucks a stray strand of Zayn’s hair behind the boy’s ear. ‘And I get to do this,’ he whispers, thumb softly exploring Zayn’s cheeks – brand new cheeks with no stubbles or anything – and ducks low to kiss Zayn.

Zayn wants to tell Harry that there’s a problem at hand they need to focus on, but all thoughts melt as Harry closes the space between their lips. He grabs at the front of Harry’s shirt and pushes himself into him like he’s trying to mould them in one.

Fuck being a girl! Harry’s kissing him and that’s all he needs at the moment, nothing could be wrong when Harry’s got an arm around his tiny waist and a hand on his neck, properly angling him as Harry explores his mouth – tasting this new but familiar Zayn.

This kiss isn’t different from the ones they’ve shared before, it’s not different from the first one they’ve had when they were young and naïve and trying out new things – Zayn has to admit that that first kiss will always be special, despite how nervous they were, how much it lacks finesse; it’s the first one – the one that leads to more.

It’s not like they needed to kiss to know that they’re attracted to each other; nope, they kiss because they knew that they liked each other.

And this kiss is no different. This kiss still burst fireworks in his stomach, it still stops the time in Zayn’s head and leaves him breathless.

When he woke up that morning, he freaked out so much that he’s spent the an hour on the bathroom floor panicking, then decided that shit happens every day and he needs to live with it. Harry’s going to come home soon and someone will help him fix this – whatever _this_ is.

He cooks because it’s the only thing that will distract him since all his art materials are in his house and Harry’s been forcing him to bring some of his art stuff but he refuses because there are things that he still prefers to be his and he doesn’t want to add knickknacks in Harry’s house.

Harry pulls away first, eyes glazed but there’s something else in them that Zayn’s scared to name. It looks like fear.

‘Zayn,’ he says with concern. Harry searches Zayn’s eyes like there’s a hidden bomb in them. ‘Fuck.’ He’s glaring for no apparent reason that confuses Zayn. He plucks his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and paces away from Zayn.

Zayn’s about to ask Harry what’s going on but Harry’s already talking to someone over the phone.

‘Hey,’ he greets, voice cheery but his eyes are sharp. ‘I’m fine, thanks. How about you?’ Pause. ‘How’re the mandrakes growing?’

Harry’s looking at Zayn the entire time, like he’s afraid if he lets Zayn out of his sight, the other will disappear like a popped bubble.

‘Something’s wrong with Zayn actually,’ he says over the phone and Zayn wants to make him to stop.

Who was Harry calling? Was it someone they can trust? He can’t let this problem reach the press because they’ll never hear the end of it, he may also become the next Guinea Pig for mad scientists.

‘It’s probably some potion,’ Harry continues. ‘I’m not sure what yet or who’ve done this. But this is really going to be a problem because I don’t know if my magic is enough to fix it.’

Magic? Did Harry just say _magic_? Zayn’s suddenly on all ears to listen to the conversation but he’s mind is pouring out questions like: What magic? What magic are they talking about? How does Harry know about magic? Does it mean Harry’s a wizard? Or maybe he knows a witch or two? Maybe Zayn’s misheard him?

‘Zayn,’ Harry calls, putting his phone away in his pockets. ‘We have to go.’ He moves toward Zayn and reaches for his hand.

It’s all natural like the sun rising in the East and setting in the West because when Harry reaches out, Zayn’s instinct is to reach back – it’s as scientific as breathing.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks because he doesn’t admire the creases that forms across Harry’s forehead.

‘Nothing,’ Harry replies, lips set on a grim line that’s too hard to believe. He pulls Zayn in an embrace. ‘Nothing,’ he says again, placing a kiss on top of Zayn’s head. ‘We’ll get you better, okay?’

Zayn nods on Harry’s chest. He’s so tiny against Harry, so small but so safe in those gangly arms.

‘Let’s go to Raven,’ Harry says, pulling away again.

‘Who?’ he asks, looking up at Harry. God, when did Harry’s eyes become so green like some jade jewellery?

Harry gives him a small smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘The most powerful witch in the State of California.’

He’s sure that his eyes are as wide as Harry’s a while ago. ‘A what?’

‘A witch,’ Harry repeats.

A witch. Zayn’s lost for words – lost for logic, entirely.

Harry just nods, probably enjoying Zayn’s reaction. Zayn’s not the type who gets stun easily.

‘C’mon.’ Harry tugs at him.

Zayn remains immobile, staring at Harry. ‘It’s true then?’ He doesn’t wait for Harry to insert an answer. ‘You’re a wizard, Harry.’

The very words sound ridiculous – or maybe it sounds too _Harry Potter._ But Harry doesn’t correct him, on the contrary, Harry’s giggling like he’s recalling the same thing as Zayn: that moment back in 2011 when they’ve played _Harry Potter_ on one of their concerts from the UAN tour with Liam saying the exact thing Zayn had said.

‘A wizard.’ Zayn’s always guessed that if you say a word out loud for so many times you’ll believe it, but he doesn’t think it works like that this time. He can’t wrap his head around it. Harry’s a wizard and he’s not sure what to do with this fact. Should he celebrate it or freak out?

‘Zayn?’

It’s still Harry, only now he’s going to have magic powers. He stares at the other person. Harry accepted him, why is so caught up with Harry being a wizard?

His brain gives him an answer: Since when was Harry a wizard? How long has he been hiding it from you? Why was he hiding it from you? Why wasn’t he able to trust you with his _secret_ identity?

It all seems like a spy movie in his head.

‘For how long?’ He can’t help his curiosity because haven’t they promised not to keep secrets from each other anymore?

Harry’s calculating again, he looks worried and Zayn’s upset that he made Harry feels like he needs to hide or else he’ll be judged harshly, that there’s nothing good to say about him.

He reaches out and intertwines their fingers. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, creating small circles in the back of Harry’s hands with his thumb.

‘S’okay.’ Harry squeezes his hand softly. ‘I didn’t mean to hide it from you.’ He looks at their hands. ‘I wasn’t sure where to begin or how to explain to you. And the matter of my wizard-ry didn’t actually affect us – except now. Plus, I was scared that you’ll freak out.’

‘I’m a bit freaked out,’ he says honestly because they’re going to try to be true with each other, no matter how much they fail at times. They’ll try and try and try till they get everything right. ‘But today’s the day that nothing else will top off that I’m a girl.’

‘A beautiful girl,’ Harry corrects, smiling now.

Zayn rolls his eyes because it’s his cue to do so when Harry’s too cheesy. ‘I don’t care though,’ he tells Harry. ‘You’re Harry. And I’m Zayn. You love me and I love you. That’s all that matters, that’s the only truth I need – everything else be damned.’

Harry’s grinning, fresh tears threatening to fall from his eyes. ‘I’m suppose to be the romantic one here,’ he teases. ‘The one who’s got to say the corny cliché-romantic-movie lines.’

Zayn laughs because that’s the truth but maybe everything’s just different today – the old facts don’t apply to what they have anymore. Maybe it’s time to change something, build new evidences. As long as they do it together, Zayn doesn’t care whatever role they play in their relationship.

**

They’re on Harry’s blue top-down Mustang, the one he usually uses when he’s in LA. And Zayn’s prepared himself to lifted up in the air any minute now like in _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. He’s so tense, holding on to his seatbelt and the car door like his life depends on it.

‘Relax, Zed,’ Harry says as he navigates the car from the garage. ‘This is a normal car.’ He’s smirking and Zayn can tell his eyes are dancing behind those LV aviators.

‘Nope,’ he argues, holding on the car door tighter.

Harry laughs. ‘I promise there’ll be no loop-de-loop.’

Zayn glares at Harry, cheeks colouring from humiliation. No one will ever let that die. It’s funny sometimes, but not right now.

‘This is really a normal car, love,’ he assures, patting Zayn softly on the knee with his free hand.

Zayn’s not sure what made him loosen up. It could have been Harry’s touch? The security in Harry’s words? He knows it’s more than that. It’s Harry himself that makes everyone comfortable with him, that makes Zayn at home in his own skin.

‘Why can’t you just transport us using you magic?’ Zayn makes a quote sign with his hands when he said _magic_. ‘Don’t you have a wand that can cast a spell? Or that transportation powder like the ones the Weasleys have.’

The boy chuckles. ‘I can’t actually find my wand,’ he confesses, a blush colouring his cheeks. ‘Mum’s probably going to kill me this time. That’s like the 7th wand I lost in the last 5 years since One Direction.’

‘You’re an idiot,’ he teases, grinning at this almost surreal concept of them talking like everything is normal. Well, Zayn’s a girl and Harry’s a wizard, there’s no hint of normalcy in that.

‘But I’m not the one with a curse,’ Harry retorts, smiling smugly.

‘This is by accident,’ he defends. ‘Or someone just really wants to sabotage me.’

Harry laughs. ‘Maybe.’ He turns towards Santa Monica Boulevard. ‘Face like yours is really annoying to look at.’

Zayn stares at Harry incredulously, pulling down his shades so Harry can see the judgment in his hazel eyes. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t you?’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘You know, I’ve always known you were jealous of my cheekbones.’

Harry snorts a laugh. ‘Nah,’ he replies. ‘It won’t be a curse if it makes you this fit.’ Harry turns to Zayn on his peripheral vision and notices that the older boy’s staring. ‘What? It’s true, innit? Girl or boy, you’ll always be attractive and I think, that itself is something supernatural.’

Zayn shakes his head with a smile, but a blush is creeping in. It’s always been so genuine when a compliment comes from Harry himself because it’s like some natural fact in the universe is being said rather than some personal opinion.

‘Are you sure you haven’t offended any witches or wizard as you thread the industry?’ Harry asks so casually that Zayn’s brain can’t catch up with the reality of magic-existence.

Zayn shakes his head. But if he’s honest, there’s a list of people he had a rough patch with. And first on that list is his ex-fiancée, Perrie; then there’s Calvin Harris – and you might as well tag Taylor Swift’s name into it; Chris Brown whom he rejected the offer of a collab; Simon Cowell is also a bit pissed – and he holds long grudges; and there are others he can’t name.

‘You don’t think it’s Little Mix, right?’ They did have that _Black Magic_ single. Maybe it’s not Pez that’s the witch – he’d known because he lived with her for more than 2 years (the thought still aches deep in his gut) – but maybe one of her bandmates.

‘Nope,’ Harry answers, confident about it. ‘I did a background check on most people that we have encountered.’ Zayn raises an eyebrow at him, curiously. ‘It would have been nice to know someone who knows magic and is in the same business as I am.’

‘Okay.’ S’all he can say because the whole magic stuff still hasn’t sink in yet.

But what really bothers Zayn is the idea that someone hates him this much to put a hex on him. He knows how shitty he had been lately because of trying to change his life – because of trying to find the true him – but it still doesn’t make sense that they’ve decided to turn him into a girl.

He probably should be thankful he wasn’t turned into a frog or an ogre or some weird mythical creature.

‘Don’t worry, yeah?’ Harry past his knee again. ‘You’ll be back in no time.’ He pulls up a reassuring smile.

He suddenly feels like 7 again with his Mum making his favourite chicken soup to cure his fever. Harry’s touch is as close to that feeling.

‘Is there really no Hogwarts?’ Zayn asks to distract himself from overthinking.

Harry grins. ‘I wish.’

‘What about vampires?’

‘Haven’t met one.’

‘Sirens?’

‘I saw one in Greece when I was 12.’

‘Did they try to drown you?’

‘It’s their nature,’ Harry defends as if he’s the one being insulted. Always so kind.

Zayn smiles. But he remembers again how much he doesn’t deserve Harry.

‘Werewolves?’

‘Haven’t met one either.’

‘Really?’

‘But there’s this famous warlock in New York that I’ve been trying to meet.’ He’s speaking like he hasn’t been before. It’s brilliant to see Harry so carefree about himself. No more hiding and Zayn’s honoured to be able to witness this part of Harry Styles. ‘Mum said that I shouldn’t meet him, told me that he’s dangerous.’

‘Warlock eh?’ He can’t believe the things he’s hearing.

‘Yeah.’ Harry turns to the left, Zayn’s not bothering to read the signs. ‘He’s expert at making potions and tracking.’ He goes into a street full of beach houses. ‘He’ll probably be able to help you faster since I’ve heard that he’s powerful and makes brilliant spells, but Raven’s closer. Plus, I know her better.’

Harry’s driving slower now, trying to study the houses or maybe looking for the right one since every house looks almost the same.

‘That Brooklyn Warlock could also be evil,’ he continues. ‘I hear that they’re very selfish creatures. And he’s a bit infamous for having affairs here and there. Pretty face like yours, he’ll probably love.’

The sudden halt of the car left Zayn unable to respond to yet another compliment from Harry and Harry’s concerned about him dug bone deep into his marrows.

Zayn looks around, a sign says that they’re in Venice Beach. He’s not sure where in Venice Beach but there’s an aircraft rental next door called, _Lucky Jets LLC_.

Harry gets out of the car and Zayn copies him.

Contrary to some sort of haunted house looking abode that Zayn imagine it to be, Raven’s house is actually one of those typical houses by the beach painted in yellow. Too cheery for a witch, in Zayn’s opinion. But what does he know?

‘Harry!’ Raven’s waiting for them at the porch.

‘Raven.’ Harry immediately hugs her when she’s near enough. He pulls away shortly. ‘How are you?’

She rolls her eyes on him. ‘Cut to the chase, Harry,’ she says, putting both hands on her waist. ‘I’ve already read some books about it while I was waiting and I think you’re problem is fixable. You need to tend to it immediately.’ As if she only notices Zayn’s presence, she immediately stops and locks gaze with the boy. ‘And you must be Zayn.’

Harry’s arm immediately circles around his waist as he approaches them. Zayn remembers this look on Harry’s face, the same one he had when he introduces Zayn to his mum.

Zayn smiles, there’s nothing intimidating about Raven – she’s beautiful like some 30 something Brazilian model. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He offers his hand to her. She takes it.

‘Nice to meet you too,’ she replies. She winces for a second but Zayn’s uncertain if he saw it correctly. ‘Let’s get you both inside,’ she prompts as she lets go of Zayn’s hand, there’s a wrong foot somewhere because her whole aura suddenly seems different. But maybe he’s only imagining it.

Zayn’s yet again disappointed that there’s no pot washing themselves, magic clocks, needle knitting scarves, no owls that deliver messages, no cat that could have talked in 12 different languages and is really human. She has a small aquarium with two goldfish and knickknacks all over the place, photographs on cabinets and walls. It’s all normal.

‘I have sorted out the things you needed to get so I can make the potion,’ she says, pulling her long – up to her spine – deep brown hair into a bun. She glances at Zayn again, warily like he’s a bomb about to explode; it’s uncomfortable that Zayn wants to squirm.

‘Okay.’ Harry takes the list she hands them.

‘I need everything in that list, Harry.’ She takes a hardbound book from her bookshelf. It’s maroon and seems to be used so often that the pages are tattered. ‘I’ve also read that the curse mustn’t sit too long in his body or else it can never be lifted forever.’

It’s a casual statement as if she’s a doctor telling her patient that it’s just a little headache because of a hangover and all he has to do is drink some aspirin to get well. And Zayn can feel himself about to faint because hearing it from someone else makes it more real.

He’s never got his head wrap around the idea of being a girl forever. Does it mean he has to leave his family because how will they ever accept a freak like him? His Baba will be disappointed because he’s relied on Zayn to pass the family name. He might even have to fake his own death so he can start a career and be someone that didn’t just pop out of nowhere.

There’s so much changes he has to do and he’s done so much of them in the last months that he’s not sure if he can take more of them.

He’s doomed.

Suddenly, warm hands are on his, squeezing his hand softly and the callous are so familiar, so settling that it lifts up something heavy on his chest. His heart stops running like it’s on a race, his breathing slows down, and he looks up – there’s Harry, smiling at him with assurance like Earth’s gravity beneath his feet.

‘We’re going to fix this, okay?’ He squeezes Zayn’s hand again. Zayn nods as he holds Harry’s hand firmly with a silent message that he trusts him. And Zayn’s never trusted anyone as much as he trusts Harry – he knows that before, he knows that now, and he’ll still know it tomorrow and the day after that and the next day after that and the next one after that and as the days to follow.

‘We need to get going, I think,’ Harry says to Raven, not letting go of Zayn’s hand which Zayn is thankful for because he doesn’t know if he can keep himself upright with all the thoughts that swirls in his heads, scenarios that makes him dizzy.

Zayn’s always had a bad habit of jumping into the worst conclusion. He’s relieve that Harry’s with him, Harry’s calm must be from all those yoga lessons.

‘Find all the items and bring them to me tomorrow before sunset,’ Raven reminds them both as she escorts them to the door. She grabs Harry by the upper arm. ‘Before sunset, Harry.’

They exchange a grim look that Zayn’s afraid to decipher.

Harry nods; eyes sharp and determined. ‘Thanks.’ He kisses her cheeks. And tugs Zayn away after, holding Zayn’s hand tighter that it hurts a bit.

Raven waves them goodbye and Zayn reciprocates her because Harry’s busy depositing him to the passenger seat.

Harry walks around the hood to get to his door. Raven’s still looking at them both, forehead set on a worried line.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asks when Harry gets in the car.

‘Yes,’ Harry answers with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Zayn doesn’t believe him for a bit. ‘Put your seatbelt on, babe,’ he says as he locks his own seatbelt.

Zayn stays immobile. ‘Harry.’

Because they’ve promised to be honest; they said that they’ll change, that they’ll make it right this time.

Harry glances at him, sees that Zayn’s still unbelted. ‘I can’t believe you’re being such a baby,’ he teases but Zayn knows better than trust the calm in his voice, there’s a storm stirring behind the cheery cadence. ‘Here let me,’ he adds and reaches over to Zayn’s side and pulls the seatbelt over him – long limbs being useful.

His chest is so close to Zayn’s face that Zayn can catch the smell of his Chanel cologne. Zayn’s eyes crosses as he stares up Harry, making himself small on his seat so Harry can put his seatbelt on him.

If he isn’t panicking he’ll probably ogle about the pink of Harry’s lips that’s so near to him now, he can move an inch or so and he can kiss him. But before his lust can take over his conscious mind, Harry’s leaning back on his own seat.

‘There,’ Harry announces after he’s done, squeezing Zayn’s hand one more time before turning the ignition on and pushing another button to get the car’s roof up because the heat it beating them both down.

‘Harry.’ He needs to hear it. Good or bad. He needs to know what’s got Harry so anxious. ‘What is it?’

Harry lets go of a sigh. ‘I’m worried that Ed will forget to bring the Peri-Peri sauce from Nando’s,’ he says. ‘It’s on the list.’

Zayn can feel that it’s not the only thing that got Harry so tensed. And as much as he wants to push Harry to tell him, he feels like it’s better off he doesn’t know.

‘Where are we going?’ Zayn asks, changing the topic as he notices the paper on the dashboard that came from Raven; it contains the list of things they need.

‘Shopping,’ Harry answers, eyeing the paper that’s safely tucked under his water bottle.

‘Where?’

‘Trader Joe’s.’ He puts his aviators back on.

‘There’s no Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley to get the ingredients?’ Zayn takes the piece of paper. ‘What the fuck is this?’ He steals a glimpse at Harry and investigates the paper, maybe it’s magic too and needs a password to decode a different list – the right list.

‘The ingredients for the formula,’ Harry answers as he drives them to Olympic Boulevard.

‘But this is –’ Zayn can’t find the right word to use should it be _muggles_ or _mundane_?

Harry nods, always understanding Zayn even he doesn’t say anything. ‘What did you expect?’

‘I don’t know?’ Zayn shrugs. ‘Not this, I guess.’

‘Ogre eyes maybe?’ Harry teases and chuckles. ‘Some vampire blood? Tears of sirens? Poisonous apples? Talking cockroaches?’

He blushes because Harry’s not far from what he’s imagining. ‘Shut up.’

Harry laughs, head thrown back. _He’s so beautiful_ , Zayn thinks.

‘Where do we look for this then?’ he asks, not looking away because he’s allowed to stare as much as he wants – it’s one of his privilege and he’s going to use it till his eyes burn and Harry’s face is all he sees even with his eyes close.

‘I already told you, at Trader Joe’s,’ Harry replies, sending him a short side glance.

He can feel his face fall. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’

Harry’s smiling, deeply amuse by Zayn’s disappointment. ‘We wizards are simple creatures.’

‘Yeah, except you have magic,’ Zayn retorts, rolling his eyes.

Harry chuckles again and maybe Zayn’s doomed, maybe they’re both going to fail; but at least they have _this_ right now, good memories to warm him up on cold nights.

**

‘Does Trader Joe’s have ink guns?’ Zayn can’t get over how mundane everything is on the list.

‘We’ll borrow or buy one in any tattoo parlour that we come across later,’ he replies, plucking a yellow meat watermelon from the fruit rack. He’d taken a picture of the list and he’s using his phone as reference. He’s heading to the jar of olives.

‘Are you going to put this all in my drink?’ He follows right behind Harry, pushing the grocery cart and looks around.

‘I’m not so sure, to be honest,’ Harry replies. ‘I’m not really good with potions.’

‘Should have listened more to Professor Snape.’ He nudges Harry with his elbow and giggles.

‘It’s going to be weird hearing Alan Rickman call me Mr. Styles.’ He picks a jar and puts it in their cart. ‘I’ll probably create a potion that’ll explode and I’ll get a telling off. Then it’s _50 points from Gryffindor_.’

‘How sure are you that you’re gonna be on Gryffindor?’ They’re moving to the banana rack now. They need a dozen of yellow bananas.

‘Cos Harrys are Gryffindor material,’ he says, challenging Zayn to poke at his fragile logic.

Zayn rolls his eyes. ‘You really expect me to believe that?’

‘Plus, I also think I belong there,’ he adds, picking up more than a dozen of banana.

‘Why?’ Because they’re a generation where Hogwarts houses are a matter of life and death. ‘And also, we don’t need that much of bananas.’

‘Some of them are snacks for me and you,’ Harry explains and takes more than 3 dozens – Zayn lost count. He sighs and looks up to Zayn seriously, ‘Because I’m brave enough to choose that house.’

‘Are you really forcing the theory we’ve read in Tumblr 2 years ago?’ Zayn pushes the cart forward.

‘It all makes sense, doesn’t it?’ Harry takes the cart away from Zayn. The other boy gives him a questioning look. ‘People are starting to think that it’s not very gentleman-ly of me to let you push this.’

‘I can hold my own,’ Zayn retorts.

‘I’ll let you hold your own when you already have it back,’ Harry jokes and laughs.

‘You really had to make it weird.’ He swivels them towards the sweets.

‘It was invitation enough.’ He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously.

Zayn flusters, he know he is because Harry’s got a wicked lips and a sinful tongue to match.

‘10 red gummy bears,’ Harry announces as he plucks a one 5lbs bag of Haribo Gummi Bears. ‘We forgot the ripe mangoes.’ He pushes the cart back to the Fruits and Vegetable section.

‘These items seem so easy to get,’ he says as Harry takes 3 mangoes and puts them on their cart.

‘The purchase-able ingredients that it.’ He grimaces.

‘True,’ Zayn agrees, tries not to cringe at Harry’s _purchase-able_ coining. ‘What about the Andy Warhol painting?’ He looks at Harry. ‘Why do we even need a painting?’

Harry shrugs. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I’ve already texted Jeff and he’s on it. Along with the diamond and ink gun.’

Zayn nods, putting a check mark before the items that they already have. ‘Is there anything else that we’ll have a hard time of acquiring?’ he asks. ‘We only have until tomorrow. Before sunset.’

The other boy stops, pauses his action in taking a pack of Yorkshire tea from the shelf.

‘Harry?’

‘Well.’ He takes a pack slowly and inspects it in that unnecessary manner that simply gives him time to think before he strings the right answer. He clears his throat and puts the tea pack along with their other produce and products. ‘We may have to sacrifice your favourite leather jacket.’

Zayn smacks him in the chest. ‘I almost thought you’d say that we need a strand of hair from the person who cursed me,’ he says, breathing going shallow because that’s an item they’ll have trouble acquiring. ‘I don’t even know who hexed me.’

It’s just a second or two but Zayn didn’t miss it, he saw how Harry’s eyes flicker with fear and it dissipates immediately.

He’s about to ask Harry but the boy’s phone beeps and Harry takes the call.

**

It’s 6 in the afternoon when they’re done with their shopping. They went back to Raven to drop the items and this time it was only Harry who goes in to talk to Raven. And Zayn’s never been surer that they’re both talking about something they don’t want to tell Zayn.

It makes Zayn’s stomach churn – in the way that makes him think of falling from high places, or that time when he rode The Eye and almost puked when they’re at the top and about to circle back down.

He needs to ask, but his heart plunges to his throat when he wants to – like his traitor heart knows it won’t be any good.

‘They have the best strawberry milkshake here,’ Harry announces as they park outside The Mad Greek restaurant in Baker at 9 in the evening. ‘I’m sure you’ll also love their Chicken Gyro.’

Before Zayn can whine about how he’s not hungry and they should hurry up and drive straight to Vegas, he knows it’s stupid; because he’s clearly hungry, Ed isn’t arriving in Vegas till 10am tomorrow which means they won’t have their Peri-Peri Sauce Lemon and Herb till then. Might as well indulge Harry.

The place is pack but they find a booth at a secluded area. The blue leather seats looks good against the white walls and white Greek statues in the restaurant. Blue and white seems to be a Greek theme and it completely screams like it.

Zayn orders for them both at the counter because Harry’s hiding away on their booth, with his back on everyone else to be inconspicuous. He gets the Chicken Gyro that Harry’s mentioned, Pistachio Baklava for dessert, and a strawberry milkshake because Harry said they were to-die-for. He also gets Harry a milkshake and the boy insisted on the Greek Salad with Falahel because he’s a health buff. He adds an order of Zucchini Fries for the both of them can share.

He pays and goes back to their table to wait for their food. Harry’s typing on his phone when he sits himself across him.

‘Ed says we can proceed to the Skyloft at MGM,’ he tells Zayn and looks up to him with a smile. And Zayn thinks that Harry shouldn’t be beautiful when they both haven’t rested for the whole day of driving and traveling all over LA.

‘Thanks, H,’ he says because he hasn’t thanked Harry yet and he only realises this now, looking at Harry’s dishevelled hair, the sweat that clings on Harry’s skin despite the AC blowing high in the restaurant. ‘So much.’

Harry smiles and takes his hand. ‘Anything for you,’ he vows and kisses the back of Zayn’s hand.

Zayn wants to cry because they should have not been on this stressful journey, they should be at Harry or Zayn’s house fucking on every surface and laughing at nothing and talking nonsense. They just got each other back and now there’s another weight pulling them down, pushing them apart.

‘It’s gonna be okay, Zed,’ he says softly, drawing soothing circles with his thumb on the back of Zayn’s hand. ‘I’m gonna make you better, yeah?’

_What if you can’t?_ Zayn wants to scream at him because he’s frustrated with how things are going. This is unfair. Why is this happening to him? Why is he always a burden to the people around him – to Harry?

They leave Baker with full stomachs, Harry singing happily to Halsey’s Badlands. Zayn’s almost convince that there’s nothing wrong with them as his hair dances with the night Californian wind. He takes one big breath of the humid and refreshing air and maybe this is what he needs.

It feels like a roadtrip – just the two of them running away from everything, exploring new places, discovering parts of themselves. And Zayn wants to live in this moment despite the bad.

**

They arrive at Vegas at around 2 in the morning. They’ve taken Ed’s reservation at the Skyloft and jump into one of the 2 bedrooms. Sleep takes over them both as their tired bodies hit the bed.

They sleep till 7 in the morning when their personal butler, James, brings them food. They eat silently, the food service is as bad as Zayn can remember. He’s not going to be the first one to complain about the menu of the Skyloft.

‘I smell like chicken and sweet and sour cream sauce,’ he says to Harry as they finish breakfast.

Harry chuckles and kisses the tip of his nose. ‘And you still smell like Zayn.’

Zayn blushes and Harry only chuckles more. This life can be good too, Zayn thinks, remembering his mental complain last night.

‘I’m going to go and have a bath,’ he announces.

Harry nods. ‘I’ll ask James to buy us some fresh clothes as well.’ He’s already taking his wallet out of his back pocket. ‘Then I’ll join you,’ he states and smirks.

‘Do you want to?’ he asks, suddenly conscious about this new body of his that he hasn’t taken much of a look yet. What if Harry finds her female body disgusting? What if Harry doesn’t like boobs?

‘You’re beautiful, babe,’ Harry assures as if he can read Zayn’s mind. Zayn does tend to overthink and Harry always tells him how he can hear his thoughts sometimes when they’re too loud in his own head. Must be some wizard thing? Or maybe that’s just them knowing each other inside-out. He places another kiss on Zayn’s nose. ‘Always.’

‘Good,’ he says. ‘Because I’m about to blow your brains off later.’ He smirks seductively, this is something he knows he’s good at.

Harry chokes on the 100 dollar champagne he’s sipping. Zayn giggles and walks to the loo.

It’s a 6 stars hotel so it’s not shocking for the bathroom to be something that royalty can use. He finds different kinds of body oils and bubble bath soaps on one cabinet, compliments from the hotel. He starts to undress when the water’s half on the big tub and he pours some bubble soap, not really caring on their names as long as they smell good.

The bath suddenly starts to fill with foam and he’s so thrilled; and after a while the smell of jasmine wafts inside the room. And because he’s feeling like it, he takes 3 candles and lights them – the luxury of expensive hotel suites. He’s certain they are sandalwood scented because that’s how his aftershave smells.

He gets in the tub, almost full now and all his muscles sing as he dips them in warm water. He closes his eyes and tells himself that maybe he should buy some of those bathroom products because they really are good for relaxing. Or he can steal some of Harry’s Lush products instead, Harry has good taste.

And speak of the devil, Zayn hears Harry pads the marble floor as he discards his jeans and shirt and pants on the way – must be because he’s standing outside the tub, very naked as Zayn’s eyes darts open.

‘Enjoying without me?’ Harry asks.

Zayn smiles. ‘I do have ten fingers and a hand, Mr. Styles.’ He takes both hands out of the water and wiggles his fingers to Harry.

Harry laughs. ‘I’m sure they are very good hands,’ he retorts. ‘But I believe that mine is better.’ A wicked grin spreads over his lips.

‘Debatable,’ Zayn replies, giggling and Harry gets on the other end of the tub.

‘It smells wonderful,’ Harry informs, looking around and seeing the candles and the bottles that Zayn have used.

‘Aren’t we suppose to test your theory?’ He moves to his side, putting himself between Harry’s legs.

‘Eager aren’t we?’ Harry’s smirking.

The little shit.

Zayn whines – like he’s been starved. And maybe he has been starved.

‘You can say, I’m very enthusiastic to test your theory.’ He smiles, putting his hands on Harry’s shoulder and one by one he tries to move Harry’s legs beneath him so he can strangle his thigh. Harry’s been known to shave his legs and it’s so simple to just rub himself on that muscular thigh but as he’s about to get a good angle to rub himself, he feels something poke his thigh. His eyes widen because he’s sure that it’s Harry’s dick.

‘I think you should kiss me first,’ Harry says dizzily before closing the gap between their lips. Harry holds his face securely in his hands as he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

Zayn pulls himself closer to Harry, flat chest meeting breasts. And he’s sure that they’d hurt but there’s no pain, just pleasure when both of them moves as they kiss and his nipples rub on Harry’s chest.

‘We should have tried this before,’ Harry whispers against his lips, one hand going down to caresses on Zayn’s thighs, only stopping when it’s nearing Zayn’s groin.

‘Stop teasing, Haz.’ Zayn’s voice goes pitchier than before as he rubs himself on Harry’s thighs, the lips of his cunt catching on skin and the friction that he needs. He has to bit his lower lip to stop himself from moaning so loud.

Harry laughs. ‘We’re testing my fingers, Malik,’ he sys. ‘Not my thighs.’

‘Shut it.’ Zayn pulls the hair at the back of Harry’s neck gently. ‘You’re fingers are so slow, s’why.’ Zayn continues to grind himself on Harry’s thighs, nerve endings singing with glee from the amazing sensation. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on getting himself off because if he won’t he’s going to burst.

He feels Harry’s heavy stare on him and he’s not wrong because when he opens his eyes, Harry’s staring at him, pupils dilated and bottom lips between his teeth.

Instinctively, Zayn reaches down and puts one finger in to find his clit but Harry’s hand halts him.

‘Can you get off from this alone?’ Harry asks, voice deeper and eyes darker.

He doesn’t know if he can because he always believed that women anatomy is harder to please then men but he can try, so that’s what he says to Harry.

Harry smiles. ‘If you do this, I’ll let you seat on my face and eat you out,’ he says, leaning closer to Zayn, strong hand pulling Zayn’s own hand away from his cunt.

Zayn’s breath hitches at the promise of that. And even his own cunt must have known because it’s suddenly aching. If he’s got a dick at this moment, he’s probably bone hard.

‘You’d love that, don’t you?’ Harry whispers to his ear, warm breath kissing Zayn’s sensitive earlobes.

Zayn can only nod that sounded closer to a moan and continue his movement as he chases after his orgasm. It won’t be the best one, but he can live with that because Harry’s promising him more.

‘You’re going to be a good girl for me, right?’ Harry proceeds to kiss the side of his neck, one hand fondles with Zayn’s breast, thumb and forefinger teasing his nipple as Zayn moans.

**

Ed arrives late. ‘Is this him then?’ he jerks a head at Zayn’s direction.

‘Yep,’ Harry answers.

‘Hi, Zed,’ Ed greets and smiles.

‘Hi.’ S’all he could say when the shock overpowers him. How does Ed knows?

‘That warlock did some nasty shit,’ Ed says as he studies Zayn from head to toe. He’s taking out the sauce from his bag.

‘The what?’ Zayn’s confuse but he’s slowly putting the pieces together.

Harry’s glaring at Ed.

‘What does he mean, Harry?’ he demands.

Ed looks sheepish. ‘I didn’t know you haven’t told him,’ he says to Harry.

Harry’s still glaring. ‘I didn’t want him to worry.’

‘What are you hiding away, H?’ He knows he’s screaming. He has the right to though because they promised to be honest, they promised to be true. But Harry’s been lying to him the whole time.

‘It’s not important,’ Harry amends.

Zayn turns to Ed, his face doesn’t think _it’s not important._ ‘You tell me right now, Harry or –’ He’s not in the place to threaten anyone if he’s honest.

‘If I do, it won’t help anyways,’ Harry snaps back.

‘Are you saying that I’m a burden?’ It hurts to hear it out loud. The reality of that. Why has it been always like that? Why can’t Zayn cut a break?

He feels it before he hears himself, the tears fall and the sounds of him sobbing follows. And he hates it, hates that he’s crying – he hates that he’s snapping at Harry when Harry’s only trying to help him.

But Zayn can’t do this anymore, the lies, the keeping of secrets from each other – people treating him differently because of their own speculations of him. Did Harry really think that he can’t handle it?

He hates it all.

**

They often say that whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. And maybe it should but Zayn can’t do that. So, instead of screaming at Harry and fighting, Zayn chooses to remain silent at the expanse of their car ride back to Beverly Hills.

The red silk dress that James had bought him feels too hot for a drive through the desert. But he can’t even complain about that now when all they have is 5 hours on the clock before sunset and he’s sure they’ll be caught in traffic once they’re in LA.

He still doesn’t know the full story, but Harry’s explained to him everything, how they needed that warlock’s hair or anything he owns to lift the curse. It’s funny how Harry had mentioned that Brooklyn Warlock once and now he’s all that Zayn can think about because what if Raven had failed to acquire the item from him?

The cars stops and Harry mutters a _Fuck_ that Zayn’s echoes back because he knows what that means.

Their mobiles don’t have receptions either and no car is in sight. They must be hex as well. Zayn can feel the tears threatening to fall from his eyes again.

This is it. This is the end. It’s almost sunset and Zayn’s never going to get his life back. He’s going to be a woman forever and his baba won’t have anyone to continue the family name. He might as well add that Harry’s going to dump him because he likes sucking dicks than cunts.

And while he’s at it, he should probably say goodbye to his singing career, to his identity. Maybe it’s time to move away to Asia with no name to hold him back, no responsibility. He’s going to live in one of those islands in the Philippines, drinking coconut and eating sweet mangoes.

It’s not a bad life. But it’s very lonely. And Zayn can’t be arsed to makes friends quickly so he’ll probably transfer his retirement plan in Greece because the Greeks seem friendly too.

Fuck! He’s not sure anymore. Nothing in his future is sure.

He turns to Harry and the boy’s eating a banana.

‘Want some?’ Harry offers.

And Zayn wants to punch him. How can Harry be so chill about this? Maybe Harry’s also planned something else in his head – plans that include ditching Zayn at the end of the day when Zayn doesn’t change back to being a boy.

Can Harry be that cruel?

‘I can hear you thoughts, you know,’ Harry says as he throws the banana peel back in the paper bag. He reaches out and takes Zayn’s hand in his. ‘It’s so loud.’

‘Well, that means there’s no point punching you if you’re going to dodge it cause you can read minds,’ Zayn says bluntly.

Harry laughs. Of course he does. Harry always find things amusing even when they’re not.

‘I can’t read minds,’ he corrects. ‘I can feel you overthinking though.’ He plays with Zayn’s hand. ‘You know what I’m thinking?’

Zayn wants to say something sarcastic but holds them all back. Instead he shakes his head because there’s no point fighting Harry now.

‘I’m trying to think what to name our children someday,’ he answers, voice dripping with genuine joy. ‘I wonder if they’ll look like you or me, since there’s a possibility you can conceive a child if you don’t change back. We can have children of our own.’ He smiles as if seeing it all in from a distance. ‘I want them to look like you, to be honest; long lashes with awesome cheekbones, and olive skin. Then they’ll have my curls and green eyes. They’re going to be beautiful, don’t you think?’

Zayn can’t answer, stares at Harry stupidly because he doesn’t deserve him.

Maybe they’ve been arseholes to each other before, but Harry’s trying now too. And Zayn should have seen than but he didn’t because he’s too busy being depress.

He moves and scrambles to Harry’s lap and kisses him because he wants that. If this doesn’t work out, if he doesn’t turn back then that’s okay because he has Harry – because Harry still wants him.

And as Zayn’s thinking that maybe Allah willed this to happen, he can’t blame Allah because his baba used to say to Zayn that Allah weaves everything because Allah knows better since he’s Allah. Some people call it destiny but Zayn’s more than happy to trust it to Allah than to some unknown Fates in some higher universe.

There’s a sound of a vehicle approaching and Zayn pulls away from Harry. A Land Rover stops besides their car; Ed along with Raven and two beautiful strangers got out of the black vehicle.

‘I hope we’re not interrupting something,’ Ed teases, an easy smile on his face.

‘I see that you’ve found him,’ Harry says, opening his door and helping Zayn out.

‘As we’ve tracked you,’ Raven replies.

Zayn looks flustered as he arranges his dress.

‘Harry Styles,’ the beautiful man with cat eyes says.

‘Magnus Bane.’ If looks could kill, Magnus would have been dead with how frosty Harry’s glare on him. His hands forming into fists.

‘Easy now, Harry,’ Ed warns, grabbing Harry by the wrist.

‘Please, Mr. Styles, I meant no harm,’ Magnus announces, and Zayn’s not sure why the man looks so smug even when he’s trying to appease someone. Zayn concludes that Magnus Bane, the Warlock from Brooklyn is a twat.

‘Then why did you turn Zayn into a girl?’ Harry demands. Zayn’s never seen this side of Harry before – the one who’s full of authority that he’s sure the Harry who trips on flat surfaces doesn’t exist.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ Magnus replies. And Zayn desires to scream at Magnus that flipping someone else’s life upside-down can’t be amended with _I didn’t mean to_. ‘You see, Alexander here,’ he motions his hand to another beautiful creature beside him, this boy can’t be older than 18; with the bluest eyes Zayn had ever seen – he’s very beautiful, ‘was trying to prank his beloved _parabatai_ Jace. But unfortunately, the bartender made a mistake and gave the drink to Zayn.’

Zayn’s staring at Alexander as Magnus explains, the boy with the same midnight black hair as Zayn looks sheepish as if he’s wishing for the earth to swallow him whole.

‘How are we sure that you’re not lying?’ Harry demands.

Magnus smirks. ‘And why would I lie, Mr. Styles?’

Slow tongued Harry Styles has a comeback but Zayn cuts him off. ‘As long as someone turns me back.’

Magnus turns to Zayn this time, as if he’s seeing him for the first time. Zayn locks gaze with the warlock and something in the warlock’s eyes flicker with interest.

Harry’s quick enough to shield Zayn away from Magnus, like a cat guarding her possession from a new feline. Zayn holds on the back of Harry’s shirt, uncomfortable under Magnus’ gaze.

The warlock chuckles darkly to himself, clearly amuse. ‘Don’t worry, young wizard,’ he says. ‘Beautiful as your lover might be, I have my hands full at the moment anyways.’

Alexander glares at Magnus like he’s offended.

‘Shall we begin before the sun slips away?’ Magnus offers.

Raven starts pulling out different items from her tiny bag. Zayn’s reminded of Hermoine’s bag and he knows he’s gawking, eyes going big with awe that he doesn’t even care if he looks like a complete idiot.

They created a star sigil on the dirt and placed each items: Andy Warhol painting, the diamond, Magnus’ ring, Zayn’s leather jacket, and the ink gun on each point of the star. Raven brewed all the other items immediately on the cauldron she took out from her bag and holds the finish drink to Zayn in a glass.

Zayn doesn’t want to ponder on the different things in that cup: banana, olives, Nando’s sauce, green M&M’s, Yorkshire tea, Gatorade, gummy bears, watermelon, and mangoes. He’ll endure the taste if it gets him better.

‘All set?’ Magnus asks. They all nod. ‘Zayn,’ he calls sweetly and Harry hisses at the way Magnus rolls Zayn’s name on his tongue, like he’s caressing each letter.

Alexander, whom they started calling Alec, shares Harry’s sentiment.

Magnus only laughs at their jealousy. ‘Ready?’ he asks Zayn, face all serious.

Zayn’s heart thrums loudly in his chest. All that could go wrong with the spell falls on him and drowns his belief. ‘Wait,’ he says nervously, legs going jellies.

Harry rushes towards him immediately. ‘Zayn?’

‘I can’t do this,’ he mutters. He feels like he’s deciding whether to leave One Direction or not, all over again.

‘Yes, you can.’

‘I’m not a Gryffindor like you,’ he argues.

‘It’s okay,’ Harry assures. ‘You’re brave enough to be one.’ He smiles at him sweetly.

‘What if –’

‘You’ll be okay, yeah?’ Harry kisses him. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’ He kisses him again. ‘And even if we don’t break the spell, you’ll always be my Zayn and I’ll always be your Harry, yeah?’

Zayn nods because that’s fine with him as well.

Harry lets him go and goes back to stand next to Raven.

‘Ready?’ Magnus asks again.

_I love you_ , he can see Harry mouths at him.

Zayn nods and mouths back an _I love you too_ and drinks the potion from the cup as Magnus chants his spell.

He closes his eyes and gives up all his worry to Allah because he’s a simple human with no power. What Allah wills shall happen, Zayn’s not even going to complain because he’ll still have Harry no matter how this will end.

 

_Fin._

           

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) xoxo


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